


Thank You

by JinglePinglePie



Series: Crimson [1]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Apocalypse - Fandom
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fellatio, Oral Sex, contains one count of a homophobic slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8488198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinglePinglePie/pseuds/JinglePinglePie
Summary: When a group of truckers try to cause some trouble at the diner Flor works at, a handsome man with silver hair defends her, and she finds a way to say thank you. Happens before the events of Crimson, where it is alluded to.





	

“Aw, c’mon little lady. When you off work? My buds and I wan’ ta have some fun wit’ ya.” Flor curled her lip in disgust, but said nothing as she retreated from the drunk truckers. She had just got this job as a waitress, and she wasn’t keen on losing it so soon. After all, she had a sixteen year old sister to care for at home. Normally, she was quite nervous to leave the teenager at home alone, but tonight, Flor knew she was at a friend’s.

Walking behind the counter, she could still feel the groups’ eyes roving over her. She longed for someone to talk to, but it was late, the diner was empty besides the men, and the only other people working at the time were the cooks, and they didn’t seem too fond of the new girl. The tinkling of a bell alerted her to a new customer. Sighing, she leaned against the counter and waited for the newcomer to choose a seat.

 _Does he have_ gray _hair?_ She looked on in wonder as a tall, _handsome_ man with, no, _silver_ hair looked around the room. He watched the boisterous men in the corner for a moment before looking at her. When he smirked at her, she was suddenly aware of her gaping mouth. Zut! When did that happen? She promptly shut her mouth and straightened up, becoming absolutely fascinated with the counter. When she regained her composure, she looked up to see that the silver-haired man had sat himself down directly across from her. When their eyes met again, he gave her small wave, which she returned with a bashful smile.

“Hey there.”

“Hi.” They stared at each other for a moment longer, until Flor remember that she was a waitress with a job to do. “Oh! I’m sorry, uh, may I ta-”

Several sharp dings interrupted her, indicating that there was food to deliver. The night chef, who Flor firmly believed was out for her, glared at her the serving window, “New girl! You gonna take the guy’s order or not?” Muttering a ‘yes ma’am’, Flor curtly told the man at the counter she’d be back, that she had to take the orders first. Balancing the plates along her arms, she carefully made her way over to the group of men in the corner booth and cursed the motel across the street, not for the first time. Truckers passing through on the highway congregated around the place.

“Alright then, I’ve a fish cake- for you? Ok, here ya go- a clam chowder- oh!” Flor damn near dropped the rest of the plates when she felt a hand brush up the back of her knee. Looking at the suspected culprit, he only gave her an innocent smile and pointed to one of the dishes, “I think the eggs are mine, dear.” With a barely contained rage, Flor dropped plates in front of their respective owners, giving up any pretense of niceness. She marched back behind the counter with a scoff and tried tugging her skirt lower for the umpteenth time. The laughter that erupted behind her only made her feel worse. Had it been in any other situation, there would’ve been hell to pay, but she really needed the job. _Almost over_ , she thought as she glanced at the small clock on the wall, _Ricky should be here any moment and then I’m done_.

Flor found her way back behind the counter, wringing her hands and practically muttering to herself. “Excuse me,” the sound of the man’s voice made her jump; she had completely forgotten about him. “Oh, I’m sorry sir. Would you like some water?”

“That sounds great.” Flor set about getting him a glass while he added, “Could I get a hot chocolate too, actually? I think it started to snow.” Glancing out the windows in the front of the diner, Flor saw that he was right and shook her head helplessly. She might have to sleep in her car tonight. She sighed as she set his glass of water down in front of him, she gave him what she hoped was a smooth wink, “Here ya go, babe.”

He raised his eyebrows but said nothing against the term of endearment. In fact, he grinned in response. As she looked for her pencil to write his order down, she asked, “You want that in a to go cup? So you don’t get stuck in the snow?” Having asked as he was taking a drink of water, she waited for him to finish his drink before he shook his head, “Nah, that’s ok. I came here to get out of my room. I’m staying at the motel across the street.” Finding her pencil with an ‘aha!’ she turned to give him a strange look. “You a trucker or somethin’?” She leaned onto the counter, placing the metal of the pencil between her teeth. He looked at her with an over-the-top affronted look, “I’m sorry, do you I _seem_ like a trucker to you?” She giggled and, giving a pointed look to the men in the corner- who were now vulgarly talking about their sexual histories-, looked him up and down, “Nah. You’re too cute. But if you’re not a trucker, what the hell are you doing here? You on a road trip?”

He was grinning now, and he leaned closer to her. Flor’s heart fluttered as she was able to smell his cologne. As he leaned forward, she saw a pair of goggles hanging around his neck. Curious. “Kind of. I’m in the middle of moving, and I’m trying to avoid going back to my mom’s. I don’t want to admit defeat yet, you know?” She nodded; oh yes, she knew all about avoiding one’s mother. A loud ‘ahem’ caught both of their attention, and Flor looked back to see the night chef glaring at her through the serving window. She held up up her ticket pad and pencil to show her, before turning back to her customer. “So one hot cocoa?” Then, another sound commanded her attention as the tinkling of a bell alerted her to another entrance. Looking over her the man’s shoulder she saw her co-worker, Ricky.

“Ricky! I’m so glad to see you!” Her black-haired coworker was usually silent and now was no exception as he only replied with a small wave. “Stud here’s got a hot cocoa coming his way, so you know,” Flor said as she wrote his order down on a ticket. “You off?” The silver-haired man asked. When Flor nodded, he added, “Then make it two. Sit with me? Unless you got a ‘stud’ you gotta get back to.”

Flor grinned, glad he took the bait. He was interested. Somewhat unfortunately, he was interested _now._ She weighed her options: on one hand, she really wanted to be clear of the truckers, but on the other, the man was _very_ attractive. Biting her lip, Flor smiled and said, “I would love that.”

Ridding herself of her waist-apron, adding an ‘x2’ to the man’s order, and sliding it across the window sill, she handed the apron off to Ricky, who murmured a ‘thanks’. Somehow passing by the drunks without more than a whistle, Flor slid into the stool next the man. He swiveled so he faced her and introduced himself, “Hey, the name’s Peter.” She took his hand, “Florianne, but everyone calls me Flor.”

His face scrunched in distaste, “Floor?” She laughed and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, “I know, I know, but my parents always got pissy if I tried to be called Flo or Anne anything normal, so it’s just stuck.” Suddenly, he whipped around, making a show of searching the room. “What’s wrong?” She asked with furrowed brows. He turned back to her, leaning in close so she could hear his whispering, “Are they here? Your parents?” This made her giggle and shake her head. “Well then, I’ll call you Flo. That OK?” He leaned back onto the bar as she nodded. He looked at his nails before continuing, “You never said if you got someone back home.”

Flor scoffed, “I’m sitting here with you, aren’t I.” He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, but Flor saw he watched her from the edge of his vision. She sighed, might as well put it all on the table. Keeping secrets only leads to trouble later. “No. Not a lot of guys are interested after they find out I’m raising my kid sister.” Without pause or a change of expression, other than a furrowing of brows, he asked, “Why?”

Flor hadn’t been expecting that response. Schooling in her surprised expression, she shrugged and shook her head, “They don’t want the strings attached, I guess.”

“How old is she?”

“Sixteen.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose, “That’s older than I thought. I figured she was an ankle-biter or something.” He waved a hand, “Not that I have any room to talk, my sister’s the same age as me.” Flor tilted her head, for which Peter offered clarification, “We’re twins.” Her jaw dropped, “No way! That’s cool.” He shrugged, “Try annoying. I love her, but God…” He shook his head and an easy smile returned to his face, “What about you? How old are you?” She thought about lying for about a second but remembered her previous assessment: secrets led to trouble. “Twenty.”

“Twenty?! Oh man, now I feel old. Twenty-three must seem like pushing daisies to you.” He gave her a joking smile, and opened his mouth to continue, but was distracted by Ricky, who had silently set their hot cocoas on the counter, “Thanks, man. How much?” “Five even.” Ricky’s voice was always a surprise to Flor. From his slight build, one wouldn’t expect his surprisingly deep voice. After passing a five to Ricky, Peter stuck a one in the tip jar before turning back to Flor, who already had a hot cocoa mustache. He chuckled and watched intently as she swiped her tongue over her upper lip. Flor was pleasantly surprised to see him watching her so closely when she was done, and grinned, “So, is this how you usually pick up chicks? Appearing in the middle of the night and weaseling into the center of attention?”

He laughed, “No, actually, but it could be if that’s what works.” She looked at him through her lashes, and smirked, “We’ll see, I suppose.” They held each other’s gaze for a long minute, Flor trying to convey her attraction through eye contact alone. She let herself take a moment to admire him. He leaned against the counter, his posture relaxed; lazy almost. He wore a leather jacket, a t-shirt, and pair of tight-fitting jeans. She purposely took her time in admiring his body, namely the way his pants fit him with his legs spread out like that, before looking back up at Peter to check his reaction. _Bingo_ , she thought. He was giving her a knowing grin. She was glad she wasn’t too rusty.

Their veritable eye-fucking was interrupted- Flor was getting pretty tired of getting interrupted- when they heard a loud ‘hey!’ from the other side of the room. When she turned around, she watched with dismay as the man who had touched her earlier swaggered over, his beer belly swinging side-to-side. When got to her seat, he leaned heavily on the counter. His breath reeked of alcohol and gingivitis, and Flor could barely stop herself from crying out in disgust.

“The fuck you talkin’ ta this faggot for? This pussy ain’t got what you need, honey.” Flor heard Peter give an indignant ‘hey!’ behind her, but otherwise focused on the drunkard. “Sir, please, I’m just trying to enjoy a drink with my boyfriend here. I don’t want any trouble.” Apparently, that wasn’t the proper story to go with. She watched in horror as his face split into an enraged expression. He spat in her face and grasped her forearm in his sausage-fingered grip. “Girl, I’m tired of askin’. You’re gonna come and sit with us, now.”

“Alright man, you need to fucking-” Peter had risen behind her and stepped between her and the drunk man. What happened next happened too quickly to completely comprehend. First, the man’s posse had all risen from their seats, ready to back their guy up. Next, she saw a glint of silver appear out of the pocket of her assaulter. Then, next you know, the group of- Flor quickly counted- eight grown men with no shortage of muscle and anger issues- were sprawled on the floor, moaning in pain. Flor's mouth hung open, and she heard Ricky cry out in shock. Hearing the commotion, the chef stomped out of the kitchen, “What the hell is going on- what the flying fuck?!” She turned to Ricky, who had retreated in the corner of the bar, “What the fuck happened, Ricky?!” He only shook his head and pointed at Peter, who, Flor noticed, wore a pair of goggles and had clenched fists. Upon looking closer, Flor could see his knuckles were red. Did he do this? How?

“You! New girl, you know this guy? Somebody better tell me what the hell is going on, and why there're customers on the fucking floor!” Flor glanced at Peter, who opened his mouth to explain, and quickly replied, interrupting whatever he was going to say, “One of the men in the both got handsy, Peter tried to get him to back off, but his pals jumped in, and- and there was a knife, and,” she glanced at him again; he watched her carefully. She picked up where she left off, “He just meant to protect me. I am so sorry ma’am, I accept full responsibility. Please, don’t call the cops.”

To her surprise, the chef, whose name she’d later learn was Marjorie, blinked and her face softened, “I see.” The sharp-faced woman looked at the pitiful lumps of men laying on the floor. “Well, I’m going to _have_ to call the cops; I can’t have a bunch of bruised and bleeding drunks occupying the lobby. But,” she looked at Flor and Peter meaningfully, “I think it’ll take a while to calm Ricky down first.”

Nodding to show she understood, she backpedaled before turning around and heading towards the front door. Looking back, she saw Peter trailing close behind her. She yelled a ‘thank you!’ across the lobby, snatched her coat from the coat rack, and went to push the front door open, but was met with difficulty. “Aw, shit….” The snow was deep, too deep for her tiny VW bug. Peter came up behind her and whistled at the layer of snow outside, “Didn’t expect it to come down that fast.” She groaned, “Me either. There’s no way my car can get through that, not before the plows come through.”

Hearing him clear his throat, Flor turned her head to look at Peter over her shoulder. She was surprised to see him rubbing the back of his neck in a bashful motion. “I, uh, have the room at the motel. It’s only got one bed, but I could take the floor.”

Flor’s gut reaction was to say _‘No, I’ll figure it out.’_ , but looking back out over the snow, it was evident that she didn’t have any other option. Looking at her poor little car, she wasn’t sure if she could even open the door to try and sleep in the front seat. That, and she would risk hypothermia. Biting her lip she looked up at the silver-haired man and nodded. He copied the motion and leaned against the door, but before he pushed, he added, “I have to make sure, you know I’m a mutant, right?” So that’s how he did that. Not wanting to admit it took her so long to put two and two together, she just nodded. “And you’re OK with that?” Flor scrunched her brow up as she nodded yet again, “Of course!”

A relieved expression flitted across his face before he replaced it with what must be a practiced smirk. “You want demo real quick?” “Uh, sure, but-” Before she could finish her sentence, Peter  worked his goggles onto her face and felt his hand cradle the back of her head. Suddenly, she felt like she was in a wind tunnel and everything passed by too quick for her to comprehend. Though it lasted for only a second, Flor felt thoroughly sick. When Peter let go of her again, she stumbled forward onto- wait, what? She gasped as she spun around to take in her surroundings, wrenching the goggles off. They were no longer in the lobby of the diner but in a surprisingly nice motel room. Still queasy, she became very dizzy and her vision darkened briefly. She dropped her coat and sat still on the bed until her vision returned. When it did, she saw the worried face of Peter. “Sorry about that, it can take some getting used to.”

Flor scoffed and muttered, “I think I’ll take your word for it. So, what, you got super speed?” He nodded, “Spot on! I’m the fastest man alive! Don’t worry, though, I take time where it counts.” Flor took a moment to realize what he said, but when she did, she laughed so loud so slapped a hand over her mouth to try and muffle the sound. She laughed herself to the point of tears, and Peter wasn’t helping by laughing with her. The laughing lasted so long, her abdomen started to ache, and she had to curl up in a ball to try and ease the pain, and soon enough the laughter dissolved into giggles. Raising her head, she met eyes with Peter, who sat on the ground against the wall, and the laughter started all over again.

She wasn’t sure how long she laughed, but by the time she was done, she had all but dismissed what had happened at the diner. Rolling over to lean on the edge of the bed, she rested her chin in her crossed arms and looked at Peter. He sat against the wall with his legs spread out into a ‘v’, his hands resting on his stomach, over his folded jacket. He had his eyes closed and a pleased smile on his lips. She cleared her throat and said a quiet ‘thank you’. Peeking a single eye open, Peter responded with a questioning hum.

“Thank you. I really don’t want to think about would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there.”

“Don’t then. It’s not really good to think about the what ifs. I’m just glad you’re OK. I hope your sister’ll be fine by herself, though. Hopefully, there’ll be a snow day tomorrow, so you won’t have to worry about getting her to school.”

Flor stared at him. How could he remember about her sister when she herself had forgotten about her. Clearing her throat, she explained, “She’s at a friend’s house.” He nodded in understand, “Oh, that makes that easier.” She honestly couldn’t believe him. He was getting snowed into a motel room with a woman that had made her interest in him quite obvious, and he asked her how her sister would get to school tomorrow.

Flor bit her lip; this was it. Following her impulses, she slowly crawled off the bed and crossed the carpet slowly on her hands and knees. Stopping an inch away from his face, she whispered, “You’re too sweet, you know?” She cautiously leaned forward to give him a peck on the corner of his mouth. _There_ , she thought, _ball’s in his court now._ Only a second passed before he returned the gesture, then again, that time right on her lips. Flor breathed in a quivering breath, excitement  burning in her veins. She caught his lips again, this time with greater passion, and she shivered as the breath of his sigh passed over her cheek.

He brought a hand up to rest on the side of her face and used the other to try and pull her down to sit next to him. She complied, and they leaned against the wall, locked at the lips and arms wrapped around each other. The continued their routine of lip biting and desperate gasps for air until Flor absolutely needed a breather. She pulled away with a loud gasp, lips tingling from being swollen. Peter, though, continued down her neck. She unbuttoned the top of her blouse to give him more access to the sensitive skin. Oh! Flor jerked forward as he found a sweet spot, and moaned as he gave it special attention. Her moans got even louder and breathier when he found an even better spot. _Oh God._

She felt him gently pull on her blouse, waiting for her to catch on. She did, and unbuttoned the thing all the way, wrenched her arms out of the sleeves, and pressed her chest up to meet Peter’s roaming lips. He left a trail of bites down her neck, down her collarbone, and between her breasts. His fingers found the clasp of her dainty, white bra. They both paused as his fingers brushed along her spine. “What is that?” Flor sighed at the question, “I hope it doesn’t bother you. I have- it’s a type of skin condition, makes it so dead skin doesn’t shed. It’s not contagious.” He just grinned at her her, “Hey, I’m not one to judge.” “Speaking of contagious, before we get too far I wanna know if you have anything I should know about. Like, STD’s, so I know to be careful.”

He first nodded in understanding, then shook his head and added, “No, I’m clean. I just had a check-up and a full work up. You?” Flor chuckled ruefully, “Yeah, I’m clean. My last check-up was a while ago, but my last partner was before that.” He frowned pityingly, and patted the top of her head condescendingly, “Aw, it’s OK. That’s about to change.”

She giggled and swatted his shoulder. Then, she stood up and pulled him along. Though she didn’t have the strength to truly throw him around, he allowed her to push him back onto the bed. His hands instinctively came up to hold her waist as she straddled his hips. She gave the growing erection there a slow grind from her hips before leaning forward to kiss Peter on his lips, but he was too dazed to reciprocate.

“Can I take your shirt off?” She asked breathily.

“You can do whatever the fuck you want to me, Flo.”

She chuckled and added, “Ditto, so you know” before dipping her hand beneath his shirt and ran her fingernails up his abdomen and sides. He arched his body to meet her touch while giving a low moan all the while. She smirked, “Ah, Peter. I love your moan, baby.” He just moaned again in response and lifted his body to facilitate the removal of his t-shirt. Immediately, she went for his nipples, placing her heated mouth over one and giving it a swirl with her tongue. He caught his breath just enough to gasp, “Oh fuck! God, Flo.” He hummed along as she caught one nipple in her teeth, and the only in her fingers. She massaged them for a while until she switched sides, and started grinding against his now prominent bulge.

Peter gasped and writhed beneath her, half-heartedly running his hands up and down her body, far too taken in his own pleasure. Only when it got the point that every breath of his was a moan did Flor halt in her ministrations. “You got condoms?” She asked, words thick with lust. When he looked down at her, he saw her leaning against his stomach with her bottom in the air, skirt gathered at her waist so her panties were clearly visible. After she repeated her question, Peter quickly wrenched his wallet out of his back pocket and fumbled with the leather contraption as he tried to hurry. It took him a bit, but Flor waited patiently, pleased at the fact she made him this way. When he finally pulled three condoms out, she took them and placed them to side, for later, possibly. “You said I could do whatever, right?” He nodded eagerly.

She traced a path down his chest and abdomen with her hand, “Now, now, what happened to the confident young man I met earlier?” He grunted in amusement, “That was before you started bouncing around on my lap, babe.” She smirked, “Well, I’m excited to see what happens when I start playing around in your pants.” His face, which had started to relax, became rigid in anticipation at her words, “Don’t joke about that, please.” She stuck her tongue at him and deftly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, slowly pushed them down, kissing each new strip of skin that appeared. He pressed his head into the bed. When she got low enough, she was shocked. “Holy shit, your pubes are gray too?”

Peter, who had been in a state of nirvana as she had worked her magic, laughed. He chuckled as he leaned onto his elbows so he could look at her and, lo and behold, a tuft of gray pubes peeked out over his jeans and underwear. Looking at her bewildered face again, Peter laughed even harder. Shaking her head at him, she pushed him back onto his back with a shove to his chest and crawled back off the bed. Prying each of his shoes off and throwing them at the door, she grabbed the cuff of a pant leg in either hand and yanked the pants off in one swift motion, Peter giving a little ‘woohoo!’ in response.

Crawling back over him, she admired his hard-on that bulged in his briefs. “Oh baby, that underwear looks so tight. You want me to take them off for you?” She mocked. She lightly ran a couple of fingers over the member, smirking when she felt it twitch under her touch. “Oh I dunno, I thought we could talk for a bit. What was your New Year’s resolution? Mine was- oh!” Though found it funny, Flor had to interrupt the jokester. She was dying to get her hand around his cock, so, as he was talking, she had reached into his briefs and gave him a deft stroke. That quieted him quite effectively. Stroking him a couple more times, she withdrew her hand and pulled his underwear down properly. His swollen length bobbed out, standing at attention. She felt a little bad, he must be going crazy by now.

She slid his unmentionables down all the way, tossed them to the side, and turned to look him. Peter laid on the bed, hands on his chest, clenching and unclenching, obviously trying not to take matters into his own hands- literally. Flor chuckled, “Since this is a sort of ‘thank-you’, I won’t  torture you. But if it weren’t, well, I just wanted you to realize your luck.” “I’ll watch out for that next time, then,” He hummed distractedly, though Flor believed he knew exactly what he was saying. Cocking an eyebrow, she reached his dick and gave it a few tight strokes. She was pleased when he started to sigh and moan. She rubbed the spot where the underside of the head met the shaft. Finally, giving one more stroke to the painfully erect member, she popped her mouth over the head.

Peter didn’t just moan, he _shouted_. He gave a sharp yelp when he felt the insane heat of her mouth envelop his cock, and started to shake when she started to bob her head up and down. “Oh my God, oh God, oh fuck, shit Flo.” He growled and moaned and writhed as she rubbed and licked and sucked. He clutched at the sheets near his head and sent out a little prayer. He wasn’t religious by any means, but considering the holy experience, it seemed appropriate. Just as he thought it couldn’t get any better, she took his balls her hand and he swore he saw stars shoot across his vision. He let out a long, loud moan that came from deep in his chest as his orgasm fired off neuron after neuron all across his body. He imagined them being lit up like all the lights in New York city being lit up all at once. And then it was over. The orgasm, that is; the warm feeling of affection for the girl between his legs remained. She watched her lean over the bed and spit his cum into the trash, the sight being strangely erotic, before crawling into the bed next to him. Swiftly unclasping her bra and tossing it who-knows-where, he wrapped his arms around her and nestled into her soft breasts.

She hummed comfortingly before asking, “Have fun?” Peter’s laugh was muffled by her breasts. “That was… it was fucking amazing.” He felt the sudden urge to repay her; try and make her feel a fraction of what he just felt. He brought a hand up to cup a breast. It wasn’t large, nor was it small, but boy did it feel great. He massaged it gently, kissing the side of the mound. He was halted, though, when she wrapped a hand around his wrist. “Not that I don’t appreciate the effort, I, uh, have to admit that my nipples aren’t all that sensitive.” He looked up at her and she down at him. Her hair, which had been pulled into a low ponytail, had come loose in the scrunchy holding it back, and wavy tendrils of blonde framed her face. Reaching up to pull the scrunchie all the way off, he kissed her chin. “Tell me where you want me to touch you.” He watched as her eyes fluttered shut at his words and chuckled.

“Well besides the obvious,” she started, opening her eyes, she bit her lip, “my thighs are probably the most sensitive.” He smiled genuinely at her. “OK then,” his kissed her chin again, “down I go.” She giggled as he hopped up onto his knees and positioned himself between her thighs. Pressing a hand against her butt, he pushed so she would scoot up higher on the bed, then pushed her skirt up. Her panties were mostly a pale pink, except for a patch where it was a shade darker. Wiping his thumb over the patch, it came back damp. “Damn, that’s hot.” She giggled while knocking a knee into his side, “Take my shoes off, Shakespeare.”

He swiveled around to look at her shoes and made a sound of disappointment, “Would you consider wearing high heels during sex?” Flor laughed, “Would you like that?” He gave her a ‘duh’ look, then rolled his eyes, “Is that a real question?” She laughed again, playing the part of offended, “Jeez, silly me. I’ll wear heels next time, I think I have an old pair.” She bit the nail of her thumb and waited for his response. He smirked, “I hope you do.”

Leaving it at that, he put his focus back on taking her shoes off. Then, testing her flexibility, he slowly pushed her thighs back towards the bed. When her knees touched the bed without a problem, his eyes widened, “What, are you made of elastic?” Flor smiled, happy to show off, and looked him in the eye as she stretched her legs all the way so her toes touched the bed as well. “I do yoga.” Peter sat back, crossed his arms, and said, “That’s nice,” his voice cracked, “That’s really nice.”

“Oh my God, Peter, are you crying?”

“No!”

“You are! You’re tearing up!”

“This is just really special.”

Flor just couldn’t hold it in anymore and started cackling. “You’re such a dork!” She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him down into a kiss. Taking his face into her hands, she whispered again, “Such a freaking dork.” He gave a modest shrug and kissed her again, before sitting back and shifting back. He positioned her legs so they stuck straight up, pulled her panties up and over, tossed them God knows where then spread her legs to the side. “While that is true, we must return to the matter at hand.” He said, then immediately dropped his head to kiss her right on her sex, to which she gave a shriek of delight.

He retracted, then started sucking and nibbling on the delicate skin of her thighs. Once one thigh has been properly treated, he moved onto to the other and gave it the same treatment. All the while, she had her fingers lightly wound in his silky silver hair; it was the perfect length to be pulled, Flor noted. She squeaked when Peter finally moved back to her slit, to which he gave a lick. It was so wet; momentarily, she worried it would be too wet. Fortunately, Peter thought about this as well and started lapping up her juices, the erotic sound of him sucking and swallowing adding to the physical pleasure of his ministrations.

Then, like a spotlight appearing on the ceiling, Flor’s vision became a flash of white light. He had found that perfect bundle of nerves and, instead of touching it through its protective hood, he swiped his tongue right over it like a madman. The pleasure was of an ungodly intensity, which soon took its toll; it started to hurt. Tapping him on the top of the head, she told him so. Instantly, he started working on it through the hood, and the pleasure became bearable once again. She could feel it from the tips of her fingers, to her toes, and all the way up into her throat. She arched her back off the bed sporadically, slowly losing control of her limbs as she drew nearer to climax.

Carefully, Peter slid a finger into her opening, crooking his finger, making sure to rub the walls as he did so. Then he added a second finger, then a third, and the stretch brought a pleasant pain to the pleasure. She trembled and knew that she was getting so close. Her hands and feet were going numb, a sure sign. She tried to communicate this to Peter, but it only came out in an incoherent string of mutters and moans. She reached down to dig her nails into his shoulder, and he finally took the hint. He removed his fingers and started to rub it vigorously. At her insistence, he pressed harder, becoming much rougher.

Finally, the tight coil of of pressure in her abdomen released and pleasure spread throughout her body. Her mind went blank, and she felt like her brain had been set aflame. She could feel every muscle contract at once and squirmed as she cried out, not caring who heard. Slowly, limbs stopped twitching and her breathing went back to normal. She was so spent that Peter had to tuck her in. At the edge of unconsciousness, she vaguely remembered Peter moving around the room. Then, the mattress dipped and Flor didn’t hesitate to crawl into his arms. She fell asleep to the feeling of feeling of him running his fingers through her hair.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a whore for safe sex lol. If you want to these two later in their relationship, they're featured in Crimson. It's focused on Kurt/OC, but they are well featured.
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes, it's eight pages, and I'm posting this after prereading the third chapter of Crimson and my brain said, 'No more!'


End file.
